


Sanctuary

by bookworm213



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Auntie Nat in future chapters, Badass Laura Barton, Barton Family, Barton Farm, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky on the run, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra, I mean I didn't love Clint's arch in AoU but I liked her!, Laura Barton isn't useless, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slow Build, Sort of mentions AoU, uncle Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm213/pseuds/bookworm213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Barton didn't expect to go into her barn to milk the cow and find and half-dead super soldier with a metal arm. </p>
<p>The Winter Soldier only wanted to rest in a barn for the night. He did't expect to offered the chance to find a home and the humanity he didn't think had left in him anymore. </p>
<p>Basically: A Bucky recovery story set on the Barton farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I'm not going to pretend I was the biggest fan of Clint's arc in AoU (or AoU in general). But I thought Laura Barton had great potential as a character and a badass, so I thought hey, why not write a story where she takes Bucky in on her farm? And after Auntie Nat well . . .I needed some uncle Bucky! :D
> 
> Warning: I will try to update as often as I can, but I am a college student, so please be patient with me!
> 
> Reminder: I adore kudos and comments!

The moon shown brightly through the trees, illuminating the figure as he staggered through the wilderness. His hands, well the flesh one at least, was torn and bleeding from the thick brambles that kept obscuring his bath. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever been on the run for this long. Then again, that wasn’t saying much. He couldn’t remember anything past of few months ago.

The soldier had been running since he’d pulled the captain from the waters of the Potomac river, some long buried instinct screaming the need to protect this man, his friend. The man had given him a name besides the soldier, or the Asset. He had seen his face on a dead man’s memorial at the Smithsonian. It had all been too much, this information, and he’d vomited the contents of his stomach into a nearby trashcan before leaving the city. He’d been running ever since, from the HYDRA agents that were pursuing him, and the vague rumors that the captain was looking for him as well. He couldn’t deal with any of it, the memories, the emotions. Running was his only way to quiet the ghosts.

Except now, that wasn’t working well anymore. He growled ad pushed forward, forcing the memories and confusion to the back of his mind. His tangled, unwashed hair fell into his eyes, obscuring his view. The temperature was beginning to drop, and soon his breath came out in puffs of steam, and he was shaking. It had been a while since he’d eaten something as well. He could vaguely remember scrounging some food out of a dumpster in the last city he had been in. That had been two days ago. He wasn’t used to this, fatigue, hunger and cold. HYDRA had kept him in peak condition, he was never allowed those feelings. This was something entirely new.

After a few hours, he realized, to his dismay, that his body was shutting down. His limbs were growing frighteningly sluggish, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. When his foot hit a rock, he could do nothing to stop his body from tumbling down into the hard ground. He gripped a branch on either side with both hands, allowing his flesh hand to be torn by the bark, and weakly managed to pull himself to his feet. His breathing was heavy. He couldn’t sleep out here, he might freeze before the sun came up again. He needed shelter, and fast.

Peering into the thick darkness, he noticed the woods getting thinner up ahead. Using the last bit of strength he had, he pushed forward, finally coming to an open clearing. Down the hill he could see what looked like a small farm: an open field, a small country house, and a wooden barn a distance away from the house. A barn. Perfect.

He scanned the area carefully, looking for the slightest hint of danger. It was late at night, and the lights in the house were out, so he could assume whoever owned the farm was asleep. He crossed the open field, trying to make as little noise as possible, though it was hard when his limbs were more clumsy than he could ever remember them being. His hands fumbled with the lock on the bard door, finally managing to pull open the heavy slab of wood.

It was dark inside. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out piles of straw, and the faint shape of a cow in one of the stalls. The cow grunted, regarding him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion as to what this strange human was doing in her barn. He ignored the animal, going instead to the water trough he spied near one of the stalls. 

He cupped his hands into the water and drank thirstily, even splashing some water in his face to wash some of the grime off. He bought his reflection with the faint light of the moon that came through the cracks in the barn. His eyes were wild, and dark beard had grown on his cheeks and jaw, and his face was waned into sharp angles. A small, young voice whispered that it wasn’t nearly the best look he’d ever worn, and he grimaced and smashed the water in the trough to destroy the image. 

Unfortunately, there wasn’t any food in the barn. He tried eating some of the straw that was in piles around the place, but it was dry and hard to chew and in the end he couldn’t get in down.

He curled up on one of the straw piles, which made a better bed than it did food. He could get a few hours of sleep, raid the house for food and supplies, and be out of there before the sun rose. And then . . .where? He didn’t want to think about it, who he was, what his purpose was now that he was no longer HYDRA’s asset, but he hated running. He was sick and weak and tired, so, so tired. He didn’t know what to do anymore, and his chest was suddenly filled with a deep, aching loneliness he couldn’t ever remember experiencing before.

He drifted into a deep sleep. Maybe his exhaustion had dulled his senses to danger, or maybe he just didn’t care what happened to him anymore, Because when he woke with both barrels of a shotgun pointed between his eyes, he hardly even reacted, just stared at the woman with a look of remorse and acceptance.


End file.
